Read Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 for Free Online Page A

love remain hidden until cordiality became a habit.
    His scolding continued. I still loved his voice, the quiet cadence, the rasp hidden under his customary congenial tones that grew pronounced in the throes of physical ecstasy. I wanted to hear that again. So much. Feel the touch of his hands, hot on my body, the soft, moist movement of his mouth on my skin, the hard suction when he sucked my nipple—I had to stop. I could feel the moisture forming at the top of my thighs. I let his voice float over me, listening to the tone rather than the meaning.
    “You have to preserve yourself, let me care for you—”
    But I had to respond to that remark. I snapped, “Like veal in aspic?” I hated veal in aspic. Slimy and cold. “You want to keep me wrapped up against all danger? You can’t, Richard, it’s impossible.”
    A small pause, then, “I know.”
    His hands left my body and the stays fell away. I caught them and dropped them on the chair, then bent to retrieve my gown and drape it over the chair too. I unfastened my petticoats myself.
    I stood in shift and under-petticoat, still wearing stockings and shoes and my hair pinned up in its knot on the top of my head. Keeping my gaze on his face, I reached up and took out the pins, one by one. I knew the action lifted my breasts. It would make the nipples press against the thin lawn fabric. I would force him to suffer.
    Because of my earlier thoughts, my nipples had peaked, and as I moved, the extra sensitivity made me shiver. He stared at me, his eyes cool but a small frown furrowing his brow. At least I’d had some effect. Desperation filled me.
    “Do we stay like this forever?” I asked. “Do we draw further apart until you can’t bear it anymore and search for something outside the marriage bed?” He opened his mouth to protest, but I wouldn’t let him speak yet. “It would be meaningless, and that’s what you’d tell me when I found out. Because I would find out, you know that, don’t you? There are people longing for it to happen, for you to stray, people who will run to me to see how I’m taking your betrayal. And I’ll have to smile and pretend I don’t care, just as other wives do. You’ll be sparing me, you’ll say, stopping me from bearing more children, wearing me out with childbirth. During my time in society, I’ve heard it all, Richard, and the excuses, and I’ve seen the hurt in their eyes.”
    I couldn’t keep my tears back any longer, and I didn’t see the point anymore. I let them fall but didn’t wail. Just let them trickle slowly down my cheeks, leaving hot trails behind.
    “I’ll never do that.” He sounded sincere, his voice steady. He was sincere. But I knew he needed the closeness we had shared, if not making love, then intimate relations. I wanted the true involvement we’d had, the love and sharing, not just the making love. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to wake up in his arms, to kiss him good morning. The lack of it was driving me insane.
    I wanted to shock him into returning to me. I remembered something that had crossed my mind once, briefly. “And I’ll be alone. After a surfeit of lovemaking, suddenly I’d have nothing. Richard, what if, one day, I see a man with your eyes? What if I grew lonely enough to turn to someone else?”
    Shock forced his eyes to dilate and the lines around his mouth to whiten. But to do him justice, he didn’t turn away. He must know I was close to breaking. I had shown him everything, only stopping when I could hold my voice steady no longer.
    “You cannot. You know what sexual relations will mean—” Now his voice shook. “You can’t fall pregnant again.”
    “It’s an excuse.” I knew several ways to avoid children, and in any case, I’d had childbed fever. “The doctor told me that nine out of ten women who’d had what I had end the illness sterile. In others that might be unfortunate, but not in our case.”
    “There’s always a chance. Always. And I can’t lose